


Don't Go Far Off

by elluvias



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Period Typical Homophobia, They know everything, and nobody knows, and there's going to be a lot of heart hurts, and unrequited love for a bit, but also hopefully moments that make you vomit rainbows and butterflies, either way, honestly bucky was a superpowered mother hen, in mostly the fact that Bucky is a mutant, or knowing when steve really needed medical attention, then they really underestimated that, well except perhaps how much Bucky loves Steve, well except you know the Red Room and Hydra, which i doubt they'll ever do again, which was good
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-06 16:43:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1865082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elluvias/pseuds/elluvias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky has always held secrets. From the days of his childhood in Brooklyn, to the long hours of the War, in the even longer years of being the Winter Soldier, and even now when he is trying to put himself back together to try and be human again. Except that is perhaps the greatest secret of them all, the fact that Bucky never was human. Now they'd call him a mutant, but in his heart he knows the truth of it. But this is a burden he can't keep holding onto alone, not with the upgrades he's gotten. So now he has the choice, does he stop trying to get better and revert back to the Red Room's training to control his powers or does he go out on a limb and ask for help from one of the unlikeliest sources.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Salvia_G](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salvia_G/gifts), [Moonrose91](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonrose91/gifts).



> The title is taken from one of Pablo Neruda's poems.

Bucky had never had to think about it before. It was just something that happened, little moments, where he knew exactly what someone was feeling despite them not showing it. It wasn’t a big deal, yanno? It wasn’t bad, it was in fact kinda good because it made sure Bucky kinda knew where he had to be where Steve was involved.

Except now he had to think about it, and he had to think about it hard.

What had been a useful little something that had kept people safe and well cared for and Bucky not slowly going insane. Now had Bucky going, not even slowly damnit, insane. He had woke up this morning with an awareness of everyone at the orphanage. Not that he hadn’t been aware before, but this was too much. Way too much. It was like everyone was screaming at him without words or voices, trying to take place at the top of…god Bucky didn’t even know what they were competing for.

It had been too much, way too much, and so he rolled over and promptly started retching. His brain couldn’t handle it, his body couldn’t handle it, he was flushed and feeling like someone was taking a mallet to his fucking skull. He registered the concern and disgust of everyone else in the room, knew Steve was just concern as he came over while another boy ran out to get one of the sisters.

“Buck? Buck what’s wrong?” Steve was there with his stupid hand running through Bucky’s sweat damp hair and another rubbing circles on his back.

“Don’t feel good, punk. Get away.” Was the only thing Bucky could think of. He hadn’t heard of someone getting brain sick before or well he had but it wasn’t ever like this. Wasn’t like someone was trying to use the light to murder him or that he felt overcrowded in his brain. It was taperin’ off, kinda, a bit, when Steve came over and started touching like the suicidal idiot he was. Bucky didn’t want Steve catching whatever the fuck this shit was, even if he had a feeling it wasn’t communicable. You could never be too careful with Steve.

“Nope.” Was the eloquent and stubborn reply. “You look a bit better now that I’m here.”

And how could Bucky explain that? Because he was. When Steve had started touching everything had become focused on him. That bone deep worry he had about Bucky, the amusement that for once Bucky was sick and Steve had to care for him. There was relief that Bucky was looking a little bit healthier now Bucky was in his hands. It was like Steve was drowning out everything else, was so big and bright and Steve that he overshadowed all the other things that were making his brain hurt.

So he grunted, made a shakily rude gesture with his hand, and refused to keep fighting because despite the fact that Steve was making it better, he still felt like shit.

It was a week or actually more like two, before Bucky figured it out. It wasn’t that he was an idiot. He was smart or smart enough. No the problem was was that most of the time no one talked about these things. It was worse than…than being a fairy. Because at least being a fairy was a choice and one could stop eventually.

Bucky was a freak. 

Maybe they had a better word for it somewhere in the highly educated halls of Manhattan. Down in Brooklyn they didn’t want or need to be educated on that sort of stuff. They called it like they saw it and thank God Almighty that Bucky’s freakiness was just hidden all in his brain. Bucky had known one guy who had been like him, had only even known about him because he’d intervened in a fight and he’d let his uh…claws come out. Bucky knew he probably didn’t want no orphan kid coming to him for help, but it was all Bucky had.

So he slipped out, kept to the shadows, trying desperately not to let his head hurt to the point where he was going to be immobile and easy pickings. It took poking around three of the sketchiest bars in Brooklyn to find the guy. 

“Kid?”

The man’s words were rough, like sandpaper, and deep. They were confused, concerned, and a tad irritated. Bucky straightened himself out, tried to not look as pathetic as he felt, overwhelmed by everyone and everything. He hadn’t been sleeping well either, since his…freakiness showed up.

“I need help. Not money! Not not shit like that because I can handle myself. ‘s just.” Bucky couldn’t help but shrug as he trailed off, all his bravado fleeing. He felt utterly helpless, because if he got sent away or locked up or killed, then who the hell would take care of Steve? No one else seemed to care whether his idiot best friend lived or died, or picked fights with folk twice his size. “I need advice.” Was the meagre explanation he could come up with right now for what he required. He didn’t need advice as much as help, and he didn’t know if the stranger could help him or not.

The blue eyes measured him and he didn’t quake or quail under them. He gritted his teeth and stood firm, because if he chickened out now then he was as good as dead. Not that at the moment people were hunting him, but they would. They’d come after him once they found out and Bucky had to be able to take it. He had to be able to fight them off or take all the punches and crawl away to safety. He had to be able to survive, because if he didn’t survive then no one else would make sure Steve survived. Hell more than half the reason he was standing there in front of a stranger who Bucky had seen stab men with claws that came out of his hands was so Bucky could protect Steve. Because the little asshole needed to be cared for, even when he didn’t want to admit it.

Finally the man threw back his cup of whiskey, lit up a cigar and nodded towards the exit. Bucky followed, because an invitation like that wasn’t to be ignored. They were silent for the first four blocks down towards the water. Then the man cut through the silence as his nostrils flared.

“Where are ya hurt kid?”

Bucky for his part didn’t startle at the sound. He had known it was coming, could feel the man debating something inside his head and coming to a conclusion.

“In my head.” He didn’t chew his lip, though he wanted to, or close his eyes against the light, because damn they still hurt. “Woke up one day ‘bout a week ago with my brain tryin’ to liquefy in my skull. I could feel everyone feelin’. Not just in the orphanage either. I can’t feel the entire city, figure if I could I’d be dead or jibberin’ nothin’ but words that don’t make sense. I’m still a freak though and no one takes kindly to them. So I need to know how to hide and when I can’t I need to know how to fight.”

The man let him speak, without cutting him off. He watched Bucky through the entire rambling explanation complete with unnecessary hand gestures.

“Look kid, what I got and what you got are two different sorts of fucked up. I don’t think I can teach you how to keep yourself in your own head. I can teach you how to fight though. If you can be content with that and with the fact I’m not going to be here long, then we got a deal.”

Bucky didn’t even hesitate as he threw his hand out. “You got a deal, sir.”

There was a warm amused sort of smile on the man’s face, and Bucky could feel the wry affection beginning to blossom in the older man’s chest as he shakes Bucky’s hand. It’s the sort of thing that Bucky needs to feel sometimes, directed at him and him alone. He’s an orphan and an uppity troublemaker to boot, there aren’t many people who actually like him besides Steve. So it’s nice, real real nice to know this strange man who he had met once before seems to like him.

“Alright, call me Logan. And I am going to see you at seven, here, by the docks.”

They’re orders Bucky can listen to. He might be thirteen, might still be a kid, but he hasn’t really been a kid in a long time. You don’t get to stay on at the Orphanage. So he isn’t a kid but he isn’t a man by a longshot either. He’s in between and in between is all that he’s probably going to be for a long time.

Logan is not a merciless teacher, but he is a hard one. His kindness is in how he doesn’t throw his punches or sugarcoat the fact that life is going to be shitty. He shows how he cares by teaching Bucky survival skills that maybe he shouldn’t be learning at 13 but there’s little choice in the matter. Bucky has to learn how to survive if anyone ever finds out about him and Logan is teaching him in the most brutally efficient way he knows how.

His power gets, well Bucky would never say it was controllable, but it gets manageable. Though that’s less learning how to use it and more like him being the biggest coward in the world. There’s too many people for him to feel all at once and not hurt and trying to calm his own mind when everyone else is intent on smothering him with their feelings just doesn’t work out. So he finds a loophole, he can’t turn his powers off, he can’t get out of the city, and dying is nonnegotiable.

So he finds himself a shield to use instead.

And he asks, in a roundabout way for permission first. He can’t give Steve the particulars, can’t explain why Bucky needs to know what Steve would be willing to do to help him out. When Steve answers with ‘anything’ and Bucky knows he means it deep down in his soul, then…well he has to take the only way he can figure out to make the pain stop.

Bucky hides in Steve’s heart. At first the connection is shaky at best and Bucky loses it once he’s seven blocks away or further. Then he works on it, tying them both closer, making a connection so strong Bucky doesn’t even have to think about it anymore. All he can feel is Steve, a comforting and entirely annoying presence in the back of his head that wards away everything else and gives Bucky room to breathe again.

Which also allows him to follow Logan’s training plan better. That is until Logan has to do what he said he’d have to do, and leave. It tears Bucky up a little to know his teacher is going to go, that his friend is going to leave. But Logan never promised to stay and Logan gave him a gift that no one else had given. He now knows eight different ways to knock a guy out, and many more techniques on how to cripple or kill. Not that Logan ever let him kill anyone, but the knowledge is there. It has to be there, because the world’s a cruel place for normal folk, and it’s just going to be downright nasty when freaks of any kind are involved.

So Bucky puts on his armor, Steve’s heart and a charming smile, and his weapons, his brains and his body, and he lives in the world that hates him without realizing it. He’s a soldier and a survivor long before the world crumbles to pieces. Fighting in a war no one else ever noticed and being stuck behind enemy lines.

When the War comes Bucky finds relief, sweet relief against the agonizing terror and pain and loneliness his brothers in arms feel, because now. Finally, thankfully, he has an enemy he can shoot.


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky asks a favor from....a sort of friend.

Regaining his memories was a slow and agonizing process. Bucky could feel them in his head, sharp little splinters of a broken mirror that he had to piece together by hand. Sometimes Bucky was aware that the other Avengers murmured about taking him to Bayville or taking him to Asgard to see if either a telepath of aliens could work magic and heal him. When he was aware of it he would stalk into the room, Winter Soldier mask in place, and very quietly but very clearly enunciate the word ‘no’ before stalking back to the shadows he had come from.

Bucky was broken, he had been brainwashed, lobotomized, experimented upon, mindfucked, and tortured. He knew better than all the others how fragile the small picture of his life, his real life, he had begun to create was. He would guard it jealously and fiercely, because it had been taken from him so many times before. Because he had had it ripped from him, cut from him, burned from him. He was never letting anyone inside his head again and any who tried would find out that Bucky Barnes was more dangerous than they originally thought.

It had taken months for him to get to this point now. Where a gesture or a word wouldn’t have him fleeing into his own mind to hide all the treasures he had salvaged. Where he would hide for hours or days until Steve could convince him to emerge. Steve was the only one who could gently coax Bucky back into his body, back into the present, and far from the protective darkness he threw up around his self in his head.

The Avengers all thought it was because of their deep unshakeable friendship. That even after seventy years Bucky could recognize Steve because of the sheer intensity of their friendship. It was true in a way, that they had a deep bond. Steve loved him like a brother, had always loved him like a brother. Which was what Bucky made himself to be. It hurt, it had made him raw and broken inside even before he had become a lab rat for Zola, but Bucky would take the bond of brotherhood over nothing any day.

What Bucky never spoke of was that it was more than just friendship on his end. It had been once, but then it had grown and blossomed into love the longer Bucky stayed in Steve’s head and heart to hide from the world. Bucky didn’t even hint that it hadn’t been visual recognition that had triggered his memories that fateful day on the bridge. It had been proximity, being so close to Steve had let something that had long since been broken snap into place. Honestly it still sometimes took Bucky a minute to remember what Steve looked like, but the bond hadn’t cared. It had been forged and fostered decades ago, linking the two together until several hundred miles lay between them.

It was that link, that unshakeable link that had saved Steve’s life more times than not. Bucky couldn’t entirely regret the choices he had made as a child, trying to survive in a world that would have hated the thought of his existence. But he could…work to change them now.

So it that reason that had Bucky holding two large mugs of tea and standing nervously in front of Banner’s door.

None of the Avengers truly trusted him, save Natasha and Steve. All the others treated him like a half feral dog, one who would be as likely to bite a hand as he would to request pets. Which was understandable. He was not sane nor the poster of stability. Though he very much doubted they understood his instability or the causes for half of his breakdowns over the last month.

“Who is it?” Banner called through the door.

Bucky hesitated for only half a heartbeat before answering. “Bucky.”

There was a pause before the door slid open and allowed Bucky to walk in. Bruce Banner sat in the middle of his bedroom, sitting in a meditative pose. His eyes were open and watching Bucky warily as the assassin crossed into his room and placed the warm cup of tea down as an offering.

“Not to be unfriendly here but why did you come here and why did you bring tea?” Banner asked as he unfolded himself from his meditation pose. He didn’t get up though, if only because Bucky had planted himself on the floor.

“I have a favor to ask.”

“What sort of favor?” Bruce wondered, his body going slightly tense.

There was a small sigh from Bucky as he tried to keep his breathing even. “A big one. Jarvis implement blackout on all recording devices in this room.”

“As you wish, sir.” The AI replied.

Bucky didn’t fidget, though he wanted to. It was a habit he had had before, when he had been whole and well and still human. Now it was an echo of a memory, brought on mainly because Bucky wanted to seem…more human.

“I am going to tell you a secret that as far as I know only the Red Room, Hydra, and a man who is probably dead know.” Bucky began, because it was important. It was necessary to point out that this was a secret so…well secret that even Steve didn’t know. That SHIELD didn’t know. “I’m a mutant. I came into my powers as a preteen and I have been hiding it ever since. The Red Room considered me, once, to be within the Beta level. They never wrote it down, never placed it anywhere in a record. The fact that I was a mutant was far more deadly as a surprise weapon than the fact that I was…am Bucky Barnes.”

Banner’s eyebrows had slowly but surely begun inching up towards his hairline, his face a mask of bewildered surprise.

“But they tested you. I know they tested your bloodwork and genetics in Shield. I read most of the reports my self. You’re missing all the usual markers…”

Bucky cracked a wry and self-deprecating smile as he pointed a finger at himself. “Nazi Lab Rat.”

Bruce’s eyebrows furrowed for a moment, confusion plastered on his face, before understanding horrified dawned.

“The super soldier serum?”

“My dna is so fucked up from it it probably wouldn’t even make it to the Jerry Springer show let alone pass a genetics test. The serum Zola had only worked on me because it unlocked all the aspects of my mutation even as it rewrote everything inside me. It…twisted the x-gene.” Bucky grimaced as he closed his eyes. “It advanced it or something because for all the Red Room tested they…could not find a way to replicate what had happened to me on others. They took mutants and tested it on them and all it did was advance or augment their mutations. That is why there is only one Winter Soldier and many attempts to replicate me in varying degrees of success. I am what I am because it was the potential in my blood, which would never had awakened if Zola had not used me.”

Opening his eyes once more Bucky looked at Bruce as he digested the information. Carefully picking up his own cup of tea he took a sip of the soothing mixture. It was even more potent than what Banner had in his, which were simply his favorite herbal blend. Bucky had perhaps added a few narcotics to his, to take the strained cloying sense of panic that was curling up in his throat. He didn’t want to come out, he didn’t want to ask this. He didn’t want to explain his life, or what he knew of it to anyone else. But Bruce was his only viable option and Bucky would not be a coward. No one would ever be able to call him that.

“So you’re a mutant. What are your powers, aside from the strength, flexibility, and advanced healing? And what exactly does it have to do with me?”

And there was the rub. The moment he had to drag out the last little bits of himself that he so desperately wanted to hide.

“I’m an empath. That was the first power I gained and the strongest. I can tell you where everyone in the Tower is currently located, I can tell you what they’re feeling, I can probably even give you a rough estimate of the number pedestrians walking the streets below. I’m strong enough to where if I don’t have a barrier I’ll likely go insane.” Bucky trailed off with a humorless smile. “Even more so than I am now.”

“You...How can you stand living here? We’re the very poster of emotional instability. Our own problems are probably…”

“Making me worse? Some days…yes but most of the time no. There is a reason why I am a beta level mutant and not an alpha. I can’t control my empathy the way most other mutants can. I can’t build a wall to block others out, I can’t find a way on my own to muffle out everything around me. I tried as a preteen and it was useless, the Red Room tried but their success was a failure disguised as success. I can protect myself from others, the world, if I dissociate, if I disconnect and retreat so far within myself that I am simply a puppet for others to use. I do not want to do that so I fall upon the oldest habit I have for protecting myself.” The smile that twisted Bucky’s lips was so broken and bittersweet it couldn’t be called a smile at all. It was just pain and resignation perhaps tinged with despairing fondness. “I hide behind Steve.”

Bruce sucked in a sharp breath, eyes widening in shock. There are thoughts and ideas Bucky can see going on in his eyes, running around at a mad pace trying to connect all the dots.

“I don’t want to hide behind Steve anymore Bruce.” Came out the defeated and humorless sigh. Bucky’s shoulders slumped, showing the weight he carried every day, curling inwards slightly as if to try and protect himself too. “He doesn’t know, he’s never known what I was. Back then I knew I had permission, even if he didn’t know, because that’s how much he trusted me. Now…If I asked I’d have permission, if I sat down and explained it to him he’d get pissed that I didn’t tell him but he’d keep letting me do it. But I can’t. Not anymore. I hurt enough already without having to constantly be reminded that what I feel ain’t gonna be reciprocated ever. I’m too broken to keep myself from givin’ it away and ruinin’ what little is left of our friendship. I want to get better too but…I’m shit out of options.”

“Are you asking me to build a mutation suppresser? I have some research on them, I looked into them to see if they could help control the Big Guy but in the end the science didn’t add up for me.” 

Shaking his head Bucky brought his metal hand to his face and scrubbed at it.

“No, if I get suppressed I’m a sitting fucking duck with a broken leg and one wing. I’m asking you if I could use you to hide behind.”

Silence blanketed the bedroom and Bucky could have sworn he could hear electrons moving around in his atoms. Which was ridiculous, but the silence was that absolute.

“Are you insane?”

It took a bit for Bruce to start talking again, not angry, but…surprised and truly startled.

“Clinically I do believe I fit the profile.” Came Bucky’s smart remark, his smirk a ghost of what it once had been and there wasn’t even mirth in his eyes. It was another set of armor that he’d taken off long ago and was slowly finding piece by piece again, scattered across his psyche like some sort of weird and hellish Easter Egg hunt. “But the object of this request is to help me be less insane and give me a chance to be…human again.”

“So you pick the guy with massive anger management issues and borderline split personality?”

“I picked the guy who out of the permenant residents of the Avengers tower was the most even keel inside. You feel your emotions but you don’t let them rule you, if you did you’d be Green all the fucking time. You are the most sensible, consistent, reliable person in this tower aside from Steve. I mean yea Thor is a little bit more well adjusted but he’s a part time resident at best and wouldn’t do me much good. I’m not asking for the answer right now. I’m just going to tell you my end of shit and then I’m going to give you 48 hours to mull it over.”

Bruce opened his mouth as if to argue but shut it. Uneasily he shifted and watched Bucky.

“First off I won’t touch the Big Guy and I won’t touch you either unless you request it. I could manipulate you if I wanted, I could manipulate almost everyone in the Tower with my power, but I won’t and never will. You have free will and He has free will and you are allowed to feel whatever you want without interference from me. I will be more like a shadow in your head, there, but unwilling to interact with what is inside. I will simply be focusing on you and by proxy the Big Guy, I will be using you to drown out the noise of everyone else. Like…being in a crowded restaurant and focusing on someone to the exclusion of everything else. It’s there, but background noise. Also your thoughts are still all your own, I don’t hear those, and so that will afford you some privacy.”

“Okay…yea I’ll think about it but why trust me with this?”

Bucky mulled the question over in his head. “Because I have no other choice if I want to recover. Because I need to start trusting people other than Steve, Nat, and Jarvis. Because I need to be a functional member of the team. Because you understand having another you inside your head that is dangerous to everyone around you and trying to turn that monster into something good. Take your pick they’re all valid answers.”

Picking up his cup of heavily spiked herbal tea Bucky drowned the last of it, letting the fairly illegal narcotics flow into his system and force his mind body into a semblance of calm. Gracefully rising to his feet Bucky gave a signal nod to Banner, to Bruce, and walked away. He had made a gamble, thrown his chips down, and hopefully he wouldn’t come out of this broke.


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce hates not weird days because really weird things always happen the next

Weird shit happens. It happens a lot. In fact it is weirder when no weird shit is happening than when things like tentacle monsters appear in Central Park. Because tentacle monsters are always weird and Bruce was never going to change his mind about that, but they were becoming less weird than a supposedly ordinary day. Where nothing exploded, nothing oozed, nothing threatened the lives of everyone in the Tower, and nothing attempted to destroy/enslave/do something highly unpleasant to New York/The World. That was a weird not weird day, and those sorts of not weird days were usually followed by terrifyingly weird days.

Which okay Bucky coming to see him was not terrifyingly weird. It was everything that the assassin had said and hadn’t said that made it horrific.

Bruce could count on one hand how many people trusted him, he managed to make the hand full but still five people. Five people trusted him and on good days he wouldn’t say any of them were mentally sound. Not even Captain America, but Bruce wasn’t going to point that out.

Bucky was perhaps the most lost soul that Bruce had ever met. That included Loki, though Loki seemed less lost and more merrily gallivanting through the realm of ‘oh dear god no’ and ‘severe daddy issues’. Loki had a manical desperation through his movements, he had a destination in mind, and while it wasn’t the path any of his adopted family wanted him to take it was still a path. Bucky on the other hand was stumbling through the path, being dragged off course, mauled and maimed, and having to try and maybe find the path again or at least some sort of help. Rarely finding it and always ending up being dragged away again whenever he did.

Sargent Barnes was perhaps one of the bravest men Bruce knew and he was an Avenger. Perhaps it was because Steve had rattled on about him, the warm affection and undeniable hero worship always in his voice. Bucky was one of two people in Steve’s life who had seen the worth behind the sickly scrawny body. Bucky had slaved away in the docks and doing other odd and probably illegal jobs to make sure they had food on the table, clothes on their backs, shelter, and medicine for Steve. Bucky had protected Steve had always come to save his ass like he somehow magically knew when Steve was getting beaten up or was sick. Which wasn’t so mysterious now that Bucky had explained what had really gone on.

God above if Bruce didn’t hurt for Bucky. Being a mutant now was rough but back then, back when segregation was the name of the game, back when being gay could mean death, back when they packed up all the ethnic Japanese people and put them in internment camps, back when being a mutant was dressing up like a moose during hunting season. Had Bucky ever truly felt safe anywhere after his powers emerged? Had Bucky ever felt like he could be honest with someone? Yea he had Steve but Bucky had made it clear Steve didn’t know, that Bucky had never told him that he was a mutant or some variant of queer. Bruce wasn’t going to ask, because it wasn’t his place, what Bucky’s sexuality was. He could be anywhere between homosexual, polysexual, or Stevesexual. It wasn’t Bruce’s business but damn he hurt for the man.

Which was why he had known as soon as Bucky had left the room that he’d agree. Because despite the fact he had five people who trusted him, Bucky seemed to have only two and a half (and that half was Jarvis who had struck up a very odd friendship with Bucky) and those two both had known Bucky before this. Before being broken again and again and again that it even if Bucky could put himself back together he wouldn’t be the man who had earned the trust of either Natasha or Steve. Bruce…Bruce just had to trust Bucky, trust him on his word, trust he’d do right whenever he could because honestly no one else seemed to trust the Bucky of the here and now.

Sure the Winter Soldier was terrifying but…for all intents and purposes Bruce understood that. Bruce knew what it was like to have a part of yourself that you felt like you couldn’t truly control, where you knew someday you might end up hurting everyone you loved because a part of you was a monster. It wasn’t pity, it was empathy. Which made him snort, because honestly empathy was what got them there in the first place.

Sitting back he tried to sketch out in his head Bucky’s mutation. Almost all mutations with the x-gene gave some sort of advantage to the person, though it didn’t mean that there weren’t drawbacks. The empathy came first, Bucky had said that, and that it had been strong and solid long before he had been experimented on. Bruce then began to slot into place all the other pieces, the pieces everyone had thought had been the knockoff super soldier serum but instead, if Bucky was to be believed just advancements in his mutation. Agility, strength, a decent healing factor, super senses…those there would have made him an excellent soldier, a fighter, a hunter but…why empathy? Why was empathy the first and the strongest aspect of his power?

It dawned on him slowly as he played with the pieces and tried to figure out why would the combination be effective towards human advancement, because that’s what mutations were, nature’s way of attempting to keep a species alive.

Bucky was supposed to have been a guardian perhaps even a healer.

Every story Steve ever told about Bucky rose up in his mind. Bucky had always been the first choice as field medic, had always seemed to know what to do to fix physical and emotional ailments of his friends and comrades. Bucky had always known how to fix up Steve, had always been better than most doctors at fixing wounds or knowing what to do when Steve was sick. Steve still smiled when he talked about sixteen year old Bucky having a screaming fit with a doctor when the doctor tried to prescribe the wrong medicine to Steve. How Bucky had always seemed to find injured animals to fix up or how he was immovable when he was protecting someone.

Bucky’s powers had placed him in a position to help people and if Steve was right Bucky might’ve been bright and brash with a clever mind and a charming sort of roguish roughness but he had been a gentle soul at the core.

God Bruce wanted to laugh at the horrible irony of the world or just let the Hulk loose on anything looking remotely Hydra. It was shit like this that made him so goddamn cynical…but it was also people like Bucky who gave him hope. Because fuck if life hadn’t handed Bucky some of the worst cards it could have, but here he was trying to put himself back together, trying to become something better than his past. Bucky was trying to make a future for himself and wasn’t that amazing? Bucky wasn’t trying to survive, he was trying to live to find some way to be happy.

And he had trusted a man who not even three hours before had still been so wary of his presence in the Tower. Bucky had come as a show of faith, as a plea to help him rebuild himself and make a life. He had pulled out all the things he had kept secret for so long, painful things, things that Bruce could tell that made him feel ashamed of himself. No one needed to be an empath to see the self deprication when he had talked about Steve, to hear the edge of self-loathing when he had mentioned his powers. Anyone who ever wanted to try and pull the ‘good old days’ were better than now only had to see the damage it had done to a good man like Bucky Barnes, made him hate himself for things he couldn’t control, and see that no it hadn’t been better. It had been worse, and the marks of that society still showed in Bucky, the scars so prominent now that Bucky was trying to find himself once more.

Bucky Barnes was a brave man. A man Bruce was suddenly feeling humbled by. Sure Bucky wasn’t going around saving children right now and yea no one wanted to startle him awake because bad things happened then but he’d given up a lot to have the world the way it was now. Bucky had sacrificed almost everything back then, and Bruce knew that he was sacrificing now even as he reached out for help. There was strength in that man that could potentially only be rivaled by Natasha and that…that was sad and beautiful all at once.

Tomorrow he was going to go and tell Bucky his decision. Not even the Big Guy was protesting, which naturally meant that this was either going to start a beautiful friendship or end in murder, death, and fire.


	4. Chapter Three

Bucky didn’t remember a lot of people from his life before. He saw their faces in the biographies about himself, he had been given pictures of many of them by Steve all hand drawn and perfect. There were four who stood out in his mind. A dark haired blue eyed man who smelt of cigars and cheap whiskey, who felt like a rough wooly blanket around his head, and who showed him the finer points of punching. His name was lost, but he was someone who Steve did not know and Bucky wasn’t sure what to make of it. He wondered who the man had been, why he had taught Bucky how to fight, why he had made Bucky feel safe when almost all his memories of before had some tinge of fear. Some day he might ask Jarvis to help him identify the man, because part of him felt like he had to for his own peace of mind to find the one person who had made Bucky safe after he knew he was not human. He had to say thanks. He had to…say something to that man.

The second and third were identifiable and comforting. Jim Morita and Gabriel Jones. Bucky remembered their shared smirks and nudged shoulders. They recognized the look in his eyes, he remembered, because they wore it enough on their own faces to recognize it in the mirror. Shame and determination that they had something to prove, that they had to be ten times better than everyone else to even be considered one of the regular guys in the army. Not that the Commandos ever let Jim or Gabe feel lesser because of their skin color, Steve wouldn’t have allowed that to happen though Bucky can’t remember that bit and it’s more of a…thought he has now concerning the Steve of the present likely being similar to the Steve of the past. They’re both suicidal idiots.

But there’s that knowledge that Jim and Gabe knew Bucky had something to hide and something to prove and it was something that put them on equal footing whenever they had a night’s leave of absence. Bucky thought, though he couldn’t be certain, that both men had cottoned on to the fact that Bucky loved Steve. That they both offered to, well, make sure no one else found out that Bucky liked men. Those weren’t memories though, those were feelings, that he half maybe imagined and half maybe remembered. They’re warm, stubborn, steely, bright, pained, and struggling with demons on their own. Their faces don’t quite stick out in his head, but the echoes of who they had been ground Bucky when he wakes from his nightmares screaming.

The fourth face that Bucky remembered is one he wishes he couldn’t. It was always easier to deal with the idea of Peggy Carter, to know she existed, that Steve loved this woman, than it is to see her in his mind’s eye. She had been the beautiful dame Bucky had always wanted for Steve, she had been honorable, firm, brilliant, and head over heels for Steve. Honestly even now as Bucked carded his flesh and metal fingers through his hair and gently tugged so the pain could ground him, it was only her stolid love for Steve that saved her from being punched in the face.

He had never been as good a man as Steve always thought him to be. He’d always had a dark beast coiled inside his heart, jealous of anyone who took Steve’s attention. Hadn’t he? He knew the beast was there now, hissing and spitting and wanting to rip Peggy apart. Except he wouldn’t….he was just tired now. Tired and filled with the bitter taste truth in his mouth.

Steve had never loved him like that. Steve had never been his to have all to himself. Steve had never been attracted to men. Steve was very much out of his reach even when he was standing right next to Bucky. And feeling that made Bucky sympathize so much more with Judas, standing beside a man too good and great to be here and knowing that in the end his goodness that he loved so much would end up killing the one he loved.

It hurt knowing that even though Steve still, magically, considered Bucky his friend he hated himself so much and felt such guilt. Bucky wouldn’t change what Steve felt, he wouldn’t alter his friend’s moods with his powers. Bucky couldn’t tell Steve that it’d be alright, because that’d be lying. When he did point out repeatedly that it wasn’t Steve’s fault that Bucky had fallen or been left behind, Steve never believed him.

But now…Bucky was pretty certain that if he went through a horrific KGB/Hydra experiment that took away his memories he’d be able to remember Banner. If anyone insinuated that Banner was not a good person or that he didn’t have a certain sort of empathy or kindness in his soul, Bucky was going to gladly punch that person in the face. In fact anyone who thought Bruce was anything but good was going to have some very stern words with the Winter Soldier.

Banner had let Bucky inside his head, had even asked how to make their connection stable and permanent so it would cause the least amount of strain on Bucky’s powers. So Bucky had been truthful, had told him that he could start a permanent bond but they’d have to spend time together, that they’d have to touch occasionally to make the connection stronger. Banner hadn’t even flinched when he said ‘do it’, had carefully touched Bucky’s wrist and had shown Bucky that there was no reservation at all.

Bucky had told Banner that he wanted to throw up rainbows right now, though the effect of the quip was lost when it came out in garbled Russian. Though Banner seemed to know anyway what Bucky had said.

But that had been the beginning of something truly magical. Not in the friendship was magic sort of way (and Tony had made Bucky watch every single episode of My Little Pony so he would understand it when Tony began giving out pony names to the others) but in the glorious way that simply mind fucking the avengers was magic. It was the most beautiful magic that Bucky had been allowed in months and it was doing more for recovering his humor than anything else.

Bruce Banner was a sick fuck when he put his mind to it. He might be mild mannered and doe eyed, with kindness running through his veins, but Bucky could feel the glee coursing through him when they made Natasha miss her step while she and Hawkeye were running across the exposed beams in the main area. The infamous Black Widow had landed on the ground with a dramatic **thump** not even half a second after Bucky had leaned into Bruce’s shoulder like an exhausted kitten and snuggled. Steve had dropped his mug of practically boiling coffee onto the floor and spilled it all over himself. Dum-E had then deigned to spray Steve with the fire extinguisher because Steve had been burned. All the while Bruce had kept a poker face going that would have made Natasha proud if she wasn’t too busy cursing in four different languages while Steve stood there absolutely frozen as Bruce kept calmly eating his Cinnamon Toast Crunch like a particularly catatonic cow. Bucky kept a tight lid on the hysterical laughter that was threatening to escape as he simply made the cutest kittenish noise he could muster and snuggled further into Bruce’s side. It was then that Bruce deciding carding his fingers through Bucky’s hair would be the perfect cherry on sinful mindfuck sundae they had just made.

It was in that glorious moment that Bruce and Bucky’s unholy friendship truly began. They were careful with it, of course, if they weren’t then the others would realize that Bucky wasn’t imprinting on Bruce like a wayward angry Russian duckling instead of deliberately trying to fuck with their heads. No, it wouldn’t be fun if the others realized that Bucky and Bruce’s platonic affection was a) platonic and b) a way to speed up the bonding process. It was also easier, when Bucky was close to Bruce, for his battered psyche to curl up pathetically and hide while the rest of the world decided to go to shit.

Then there was the Hulk. The Hulk was and wasn’t Bruce, it was separate and connected all at once and that part of Bruce’s brain was more aware of Bucky’s presence than Bruce’s more rational side. It would have made sense for the Hulk to maybe balk at Bucky’s presence, maybe react a bit hostilely towards Buck. Nope, Hulk seemed to see Bucky as a waterlogged half-starved orphan kitten who needed protection and cuddles STAT. Whenever Bucky was focused on hiding, on being in Bruce’s head because everything else hurt, the Hulk seemed to take it as a cue to shift its considerable mental bulk around and surround Bucky with….Hulk-ness. It was like being cuddled by a badger the size of an elephant, but it was nice…it was safe.

Even when the big guy decided to come out.

Everyone with a shred of sanity got worried when the Hulk came out. A giant green berserker who just liked smashing things until he felt better and sometimes didn’t care if the things he was smashing was something that he should actually smash or not smash.

Except Bucky. Because Bucky knew the Hulk now for what and who he was, an aspect of Bruce, and Bruce was safe. So it stood to reason that the Hulk was safe too because the Hulk _knew_ Bucky. He knew Bucky, knew the delicate little lines on the slowly rebuilt mirror of his pysch, knew the way that Bucky was always afraid and always so ashamed of being. The Hulk could feel Bucky like Bruce never consciously seemed to be able to, like instead of a one way connection that it had been with Steve someone was finally figuring out how to answer back.

So yea if anyone ever tried to mess with his head again, if anyone ever tried to scrape out his soul, Bucky knew he’d be able to recognize Bruce. It was that thought that brought him comfort, that made him slowly start to relax his guard. Bucky didn’t have to rely solely on Steve anymore to bring him back if he was taken again, that in this Bucky was taking a burden off Steve’s shoulders giving the man a little more room to breathe.

Not that Steve would have wanted Bucky’s burdens taken off him. It had always perplexed Bucky the sheer possessiveness Steve felt towards fixing Bucky’s problems, like it was the only thing in the world he could do. Like the one job Steve wanted was to always be there to pick Bucky up again and fix all the parts that had gotten broken, and Bucky had given it to him for so long because Steve had wanted it. Steve had wanted that job and got all different kinds of sore if anyone else even tried to help. It had given Bucky such a little thread of hope that maybe, just maybe someday…

It had never happened and would never happen because Steve didn’t _feel_ that way. Steve didn’t feel a rush of pure pleasure when Bucky came into his line of sight, Steve didn’t ache for Bucky when they were apart, Steve didn’t _want_ Bucky. Bucky had carried the torch for so long, had hoped for so goddamn long that maybe he was human enough to get this.

Then Bucky felt Steve with Peggy Carter and everything had turned to ash in his chest. Goddamn loving Steve had always brought about anxiety in his chest, because if Steve had known Bucky was queer or a mutant any asshole who even breathed about it wrong would’ve had Steve attempting to maul them (which was horrifying when he was tiny and asthmatic and when he was a stupid greek god for similar and differing reasons). So Steve could never know until they were safe (except they were never safe they grew up in a warzone, though no one else thought of it that way except for those who knew they were ‘the enemy’). Bucky was planning on maybe after the war they could find a good town where it wasn’t too small and it wasn’t too big and it’d be safe for Bucky to exist. That maybe Bucky could finally turn Steve’s head to make him really _look_ at Bucky. Except of course Peggy Carter.

The things Steve had felt for that woman had made Bucky just want to curl in on himself and die, because even feeling his brothers in arms die slowly had nothing on having that tiny thread of hope cut. It had nothing on the jealousy Bucky bit back and hid and kept quiet on. Steve didn’t owe him anything, it was never going to happen, Bucky had always been good at deluding himself. Why complicate life on something that didn’t matter, because not humans and humans didn’t get to have happily ever afters especially the queer ones.

Steve had enough to deal with now, in this new world. Even though he kept trying and wanting to help Bucky there was always that guilt. That stupid fucking guilt that Bucky couldn’t openly acknowledge and punch Steve in the face for, because it wasn’t about Steve fixing his mistakes it was about Steve helping Bucky recover himself and be something. Bucky was so goddamn tired of his own pain, so tired of being stuck in the shadows and hiding, and he wasn’t about to indulge Steve on his pity party and self-flagellation, because no matter how much Steve wanted to help like he had always done before he was taking out little pieces of Bucky’s soul and grinding them into dust.

And Bucky didn’t have a whole lot of soul left to be able to survive it.

So he made the executive decision to save himself and maybe even their friendship too. Not that anyone would see his latching on to Bruce that way, because they didn’t know what sort of creature Bucky really was and they didn’t know what he saw and felt every day. If they had maybe they’d understand, but they didn’t and their confusion over Bucky’s strange and sudden turn into Bruce’s personal shadow slash human shaped kitten made it better. Because there were so few joys in life to be had that didn’t involve murdering Hydra, but being able to pull the wool over the Avenger’s eyes was one of them. It was a joy, a small one at that, that Bucky decided he was going to indulge in as much as he could.


End file.
